Mercy
by ThatPurplyThing
Summary: Russia has fallen deathly ill with a mysterious disease, and the other nations must race against time to find the cure. Sadly the only cure is through Russia's number one loather.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a very short three-shot thought of a few days ago. It's definitely much shorter than my other works, but it will be worth it, I think.**

**Summary: Russia has fallen deathly ill with a mysterious disease, and the other nations must race against time to find the cure. Sadly the only cure is through Russia's number one loather.**

* * *

Solemn and silent, four nations walked down the hallway, worried glances to each other. They had all recieved the same news, and all came for the same reason. Lithuania's normally bright green eyes were glossed with concern.

America yanked the door open, with a nearly unnatural power. In his anxiety, his physical power must have been exerting more.

England sat at the bedside, his own cup of tea sitting on the edge of the nightstand. It was halfway gone, and no doubt cold from neglect. He looked up with a wide-eyed glance to the nations who arrived.

"Did you all get the message I sent you?"

They all nodded. France stepped over to the bedside, and asked quietly, "How is Russia?"

He was about to lay a hand gently onto the nation's forehead, but England smacked it away with a stern look, "Don't touch him. He's burning up so bad, you'll bloody scar your hand."

He gazed a moment at Russia lying in the bed. The normally quiet, childish nation was laying dead silent in the bed, fitful sleep on his face as his silver hair was matted with sweat. His face was pale, and his lips were dry, cracked, and quivering with the breaths he was taking.

England sighed, "It's just as I had suspected: blanche fever."

"What's blanche fever?", asked Lithuania curiously.

"It's an illness contracted exclusively in nation's human embodiments. It's not contagious, so it's usually very rare to catch."

"Japan caught it when he was a little country. And I caught it way before that" chimed in China, "You usually get a temperature, a bad cough, headaches, and itchiness. Like a normal flu, aru. It goes away in a couple days. Good news is, once you've had it, you can't get it again."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple China. You and Japan caught it when you were younger, and your nations weren't as populated, so it wasn't as big of a deal for you. Blanche fever is much more serious for older nations, especially those with a large population."

"But I don't get it...", questioned America, "If it only affects nations, then why isn't Russia's actual country having any problems yet?"

"That's the disturbing part about it. The country isn't affected when the embodiment is ill. It's affected _after_ the embodiment...dies. And then that could make everything start crashing down. We'd have another country in poverty."

"You mean Russia could die from this?" asked Lithuania, nervousness in his voice.

"...Yes. However, there is a cure for blanche fever. Some of the other embodiments have an antibiotic on hand that fights the fever pretty efficiently. If you ask one of them, they could give it to you."

England looked down worriedly at Russia, "But I'm afraid with Russia's current condition, time is short. His blanche fever is very bad. Take a look at this."

He tugged his hand down on Russia's scarf, revealing his scarred neck, the normally pale pink scars were a clammy grey. China gasped.

"In the few severe cases from thousands of years ago, the victims' scars would turn a very dark red, then black, then gray, then white. Then after that...they usually died."

His worried green eyes glanced up at the shocked nations, "His scars were black this morning."

"N-no. No way man, Russia can't die from this!" exclaimed America, "He was fine last week! He's not gonna die!"

"America calm down." pleaded Lithuania, whose eyes were scared and nervous, "England just said time was running short. If we get one of the other nations to give us the antibiotic, we can help Russia."

"Well, which nation's got it?"

England reached into his medicine bag, and took out a little index notebook. Flipping through it, he stopped on a particular page, and gave a breath through his nostrils. His eyes were closed in what seemed to be distress.

"What's wrong?"

England sighed, "There's only one country who has it now."

He gazed worriedly at Russia, who twitched slightly. This would be very difficult to future-sight.

"And of all nations, it has to be Prussia."

* * *

**So now the only question is 'what will happen next?'**

**Stay tuned! **

**Read and Review, or Purply will cry as she does her English final tomorrow.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So I know I said this story was going to be short. But I never specified how. When I make three-shots, they're usually about as long as a Louisa May Alcott novel.**

**Warnings: friendshipping of France and Russia, and AmeRus.**

* * *

"Maybe we should have taken the left." mused France, as he drove in yet another circle, trying to find Prussia's house.

"I thought you knew where he lived!" sighed Lithuania in exasperation. France gave an apologetic look, "It's been a while since I've visited his house."

The two nations driving helplessly lost were sent on the mission to get the fever antibiotic from Prussia. China and America remained behind with England to help treat Russia.

"I just hope we can find his house soon. We're almost out of time." spoke Lithuania softly.

"I hope so too. Russia doesn't deserve to have this kind of sickness. He's too good for this."

"I didn't know you were friends with Russia." commented Lithuania, surprised.

"Oh we've been friends for a long time. We didn't talk much during his Soviet days though. He didn't really talk much to anybody then. It was after that time, we started talking again. He's quite the conversation, and a fabulous cook. Did he ever cook for you while you lived with him?"

"Um, not really, no." replied Lithuania, remembering how it was usually his task to make meals.

"Oh, he's quite a talent in the kitchen. Not as much as I am, but pretty close!"

"Sounds like you two are good friends." mumbled Lithuania, feeling slightly guilty for not knowing as much about Russia as France did.

"Oh certainly." smiled France, "We became friends again a few years ago. I think I can remember what happened."

* * *

_"Russia, are you in here?", asked France curiously, peeking his head into the tavern's abandoned wine cellar._

_"Go away!" cried a voice, rough and wet from sobbing, "I want to be left alone!"_

_France rolled his eyes and followed the sound of the crying. Behind a bottle rack, curled up on the floor, Russia hid his face in his knees as he cried. He had both of his gloved hands wrapped over his neck hiding his pale, scarred skin._

_France remembered the previous events that had occured minutes ago, in the bar. He remembered how, as a joke, Prussia had snatched Russia's scarf off his neck while he was preoccupied, and how the Russian told him to give it back, almost fearfully. That was when France saw them. That's when everyone saw them. The scars on his neck. They were long, jagged, thick, and pale, like tiger stripes. Most were very pale, and only noticeable in the light, but some were dark and marring. Everyone's eyes were wide in shock as they stared at them, leaving the group silent. Hungary's eyes were large and horrified, Poland's were unblinking, and his mouth was open, collecting flies. England's hand began to quiver, jostling his drink a little. Germany stared in shock for a moment, then looked away with an uncertainty. France just gazed at them, shocked at how many there were. He knew that nations were scarred, but this badly..._

_All of the nations just stared at the scars, as Russia stared back, frightened, as he sat in fear, trying to hide his bare neck. The scars were even lighter as his face turned red, leaving them even more visible. The silence was broken by Prussia, who gave a hooting yell as he swung the scarf around like a lasso, playing with it. He had barely paid attention to the horrific marks on Russia's neck. The other nations turned to watch Prussia play with the scarf, and seeing how silly he looked, began to break the silence with laughter. Soon enough giggling flooded the crowd, as they laughed at the antics. Nobody initially noticed the panicked, broken look on Russia's face, as he gave an audible breath. He clutched at his head, staring at the table, shaking. France took notice, as he was sitting right next to him, and surprised, addressed the nation, "Russia?"_

_The large nation was hyperventilating, his eyes wide as he whirled his head around, trying to find somewhere to escape from everyone's stares and laughter. Eyes welling up, he got up from his seat, running off before anyone could hear him break down. He ran through a door, not caring what it was for. He just needed to get away. As the door slammed behind him, everyone but Prussia watched in silence, unsure as to what had happened, or what they would do._

_Prussia, ignorant to what had happened, continued to play loudly with the scarf, hooting and hollering as the others stared in shock and discomfort. Hungary grabbed the scarf from him, and glared, "Stop it you idiot! Didn't you see what just happened?"_

_"No, what?" asked Prussia, grinning wildly, and he looked around confused, "Hey where's the Russian freak? Deosn't he want his ratty old scarf back?" Hungary groaned, wondering how on earth someone could be so stupid._

_France slipped the scarf from under Hungary's fingers, and got up, "I think I'll go talk to him."_

_"He just ran off. How will you even find him?", asked Poland._

_France smirked, "He just ran into the old wine cellar. I know this place. He's probably hiding in there now."_

_And now, France stood over the sobbing, shivering heap that was Russia. It was a very depressing sight for France to see. The normally tall-standing, proud nation was reduced to a crying mess on the floor, eyes reflecting fright and embarassment._

_Eyes soft, France asked, "Russia, are you alright?"_

_"Go away!" responded the crying nation, wiping his eyes furiously, "I'm already humilated enough as it is!"_

_"Russia, it wasn't that bad."_

_"Yes it was!" argued Russia, laying the side of his head on his knees, "You were all watching me! I'm an embarassment!"_

_France rolled his eyes, "You silly duck. We were laughing at stupid Prussia, not you."_

_"I know that! But before that, you were all just staring at me!"_

_"Well, it's just that we've never seen...those.", pointed France to the frightening scars._

_"Of course not..." whispered Russia, "I knew you would all be scared of them. And you were. I could see it. You all were afraid of me..."_

_He curled up tighter, "I'm hideous."_

_France sighed, and sat down next to Russia, "No, you're not hideous. And we were only surprised because we've never seen them. Where did you get so many scars anyway?"_

_Russia sniffed, "I'd rather not talk about it. Too many stories."_

_He then smiled bitterly, tears touching the corners of his lips, "And you're always wondering why I wear so much clothing all the time."_

_France bit his lip, understanding with a horrified realization why Russia acted as he did. Why he didn't wear tank tops or shorts, why he never took his scarf off, and why he never bathed publicly. He remembered how nervous Russia had been during the time the Allies spent on the island, how adamant he had been about not going into the water or taking off his heavy winter clothing (the poor man almost keeled over from heatstroke). It wasn't because he was cold, it was because he was ashamed of his body. He was afraid to show how scarred and broken his body was. Every nation had their share of scars, but Russia's were still a startling sight to see. He hated the stares he got from the wide, surprised eyes, and shocked speechless faces. He just hated it._

_The blue eyed man then smiled at the Russian in despair. He stroked his hair soothingly, and took another look at the scars._

_"Did you ever just try putting make-up on them?"_

_"Make-up makes me itch...and it doesn't do any good." grumbled Russia, leaning his head against the wall._

_"Maybe if you left your scarf off every so often-"_

_"No! It doesn't matter how many times people will see them, they'll just stare at me all the same!"_

_He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to stop crying, "They-they won't stop. Why do I have to look like this? Why am I so horrific?"_

_France rolled his eyes once again, "Well you're not horrific. So you've got some scars. It's not that bad."_

_Russia pouted childishly, and rested his forehead on his knees. France patted Russia's head, and spoke eloquently,_

_"My friend, I've met people who've had eyes poked out, limbs sawed off, and or their face's burnt badly. And they were still beautiful people. One who had his leg blown off by a mine in the war; He ran a wonderful home for orphaned children. Another had her face disfigured in an accident; She was a lovely artist and friend of mine. You, you have scars; but you're one of the most honest, caring people I've met. I mean, sure you have a screw loose, but you're really a nice person. And you still have a friendly face._

_Russia looked up, as if he was taking these words to heart. He blinked his eyes blearily, "Really?"_

_"Even with the scars, you're still beautiful. Inside and out.", smiled France, clapping the Russian on the shoulder._

_The violet eyed man managed to crack a small smile. If such words were coming from France, a self proclaimed expert of beauty, then maybe they were believable. Perhaps not certainly true, but they were convincing enough for him._

_France then gently wrapped the scarf back around Russia's neck. The silver-blond smiled more._

_"With that smile, you're even more beautiful." chuckled France, getting up, offering his hand to the one sitting on the floor. Eyes still red, Russia accepted it, and as he got up, hugged his friend, smiling wider._

_Nobody said a word when Russia and France returned to the bar, Russia's eyes still red. Prussia was about ready to say something, but the French man shut him up with a look._

_When the next world meeting came around, Russia was still covered up, but he was smiling more. And he gave a grateful smile to Francis, who grinned back._

_He was quite lovely when he smiled._

* * *

England took another look at Russia's scars. They were still grey, which was both a slight relief and concern. The ill nation was still asleep, breathing very ragged and dry. England sighed, and stroked Russia's head gently. The poor man's fever was at a level that could melt ice if they put it on his head. England could only hope that Lithuania and France would come back soon.

It had been only four or five days ago, that Russia was fine and healthy, chatting with a smile, England remembered. The next day England came over to drop something off, and the tall nation looked as white as a sheet, and had a horrible cough. He shrugged it off, saying it was just a cold, but that evening, he ran a burning temperature, and out of despair, called England, a skilled doctor, to help him.

The green eyed man stared sadly at the sleeping nation. He and Russia weren't ever that close in past times, and there were the times that he couldn't stand the northern nation, but he didn't really hate him. In fact, England actually felt somewhat sorry for Russia, understanding what it was like to be alone most of the time, and avoided. He knew that the Russian, still a child deep down, experienced traumatic things a fragile innocent person shouldn't have to face. And so he felt sympathetic for the poor man. Whenever he saw Russia, he didn't see some cruel demonized monster, but just some scared, overgrown child.

And so England felt strangely sad as he cared for this sick nation. Because he didn't feel like he was treating a sick adult, but more like a sick child. He remembered when America caught the blanche fever. America didn't remember, he was far too young, but England sat over the boy day and night until he got better. And luckily, because he was still so small, he was off chasing rabbits in no time.

England averted his eyes back to Russia when he heard a small groan emit from the ill nation. His violet eyes barely opened, and he mumbled something unclear. He shifted slightly, and uttered something broken, in confusion and worry. His eyes opened slightly, as he looked around nervously.

England pet the top of his head, saying gently, "Russia, it's okay, go back to sleep."

The Russian mumbled something, and weakly snuggled back into the pillow, shutting his eyes.

England sighed, and got up to get more tea from the kitchen. Russia wouldn't mind if he used his cups and tea. As he left the room however, he was face to face with large blue eyes and a goofy smile.

"S'up Brit! How's the big guy?", greeted America, as he tried to pass the bushy browed man. He was carrying a large brown paper bag with greasy spots staining the underside of it. A strong smell of grease and salt wafted from the inside.

"America, what on earth is _that_?" exclaimed England, pointing to the bag.

"Comfort food!" grinned the American, "Nothing says 'get well soon' like Five Guys burgers and fries!"

"The idea is to get Russia well, not give him heart disease." frowned England.

"Well, if he won't eat it, I will." winked America, "Anyway, I wanna keep him company. Is he awake?"

"No." sighed England, "He's been sleeping all day. No better, no worse."

"Oh." answered America quietly, smile slightly drooping, "Well, I'll just stick around here until he gets better. I mean, I even brought food. And that's like a work made magic."

"Greasy, fat-laden burgers are not a recommended remedy." grumbled England, who went to the kitchen for more tea.

America went over to Russia's bedside, and sat down on the chair. He smiled widely, speaking softly, "Hey big guy! I know you're sleeping and all, but I just wanna let you know that I've got your back man!"

Russia was still sleeping, breathing heavily, as his sweat matted hair covered one of his eyes. America smiled even bigger, and reached into the bag, "I brought Five Guys! I took you there once, remember? I dared you to eat one of the burgers, and you did? Finally there was a burger that you didn't gag at! But we both agreed the fries were better, right?"

Russia slept on, as America took one of the french fries out, and popped it into his mouth. Chewing, he chatted more, "I even got snuck out some of their salted peanuts! I know we're not supposed to take them out of the place, but I know you like these a lot! You can eat 'em when you wake up."

America pulled a little cup of the salted peanuts out of the bag, and put it on the bedside table. Putting the large bag on the table next to it, he hunched over, to gaze at Russia closer. He was still sleeping, barely moving.

"You'll be ok, man." spoke America softly, "You've been through worse..."

It took a few seconds for America to actually register that he was crying. Crying over the darned commie of all people. The guy who he declared his hatred for fifty or sixty years ago. The guy he ended up befriending again. The guy who became one of the closest friends he'd ever known.

America wiped his eyes, and taking a shuddered breath murmured, "Please get better Russia. You're one of my best friends, so please get better..."

* * *

"So Russia really told you all of that?" asked Lithuania in surprise. France had finished his story with a proud smile.

"Yes indeed. And as I've seen so far, he's still not taking off his clothes much, but he doesn't seem to be as bothered when those other nations take a look at his scarf. We all have our scars, some are just worse than others."

"I can relate to that..." mumbled Lithuania, feeling the sting of his old scars on his back.

France raised an eyebrow, "How did you get yours?"

Lithuania gave a small smile, "I'm an old nation. Wars can do that."

France gave a hum of thought, "Strange. I always had this feeling in the back of my head that they might have to do something with-"

"They're not from Russia, if that's what you're thinking." mumbled Lithuania, looking out the window.

France took a glance at the other nation, as the brown haired one continued, "Despite what some people say, Russia didn't really hurt anybody...physically. Mentally, I wouldn't doubt it during the Soviet Union, but he wasn't well at the time. He was hurting himself too. But...he never physically hurt people. He wouldn't dare lay a finger on Estonia or his sisters. Latvia, he meant well, he was just a little rough with him. And he never tried to hurt me...there was one instance, during the Space Race I think... where he lost it, and punched me...I had a black eye...he didn't mean it though. He never touched me after that...He...he still was rather...unstable. He'd break things on purpose, throw glass things on the floor...because he said he liked the sound. "

Lithuania then looked up, "He never hit Prussia much either...He just locked him up sometimes...The only reason Prussia really hates him is because he kept him away from his brother...and he said things...things that I never thought someone like him would say. But then again, Russia was not well at all then...they were things he probably didn't mean to say..."

France looked up, "So...he never...he never touched you like-"

"No, _never_!" exclaimed Lithuania, eyes wide with seriousness, "Russia might have been creepy and a little brutal, but he would never even _think_ of doing something like that. He couldn't bear to have someone go through that."

"I-I understand." muttered France, "People always accuse me of it...or joke about it ...but I could _never_ do something like that to someone. _Ever_."

Lithuania nodded, with a shaky smile, "I-It's strange how people make such terrible judgements about people..."

France nodded back, biting his lip. He knew just what Lithuania was talking about. He knew how Russia felt. Rumors and judgements, he and Russia were both victims of it. And he knew how much it hurt, to know people thought such horrible things of you. He looked up ahead, and saw the black and white house with a glass door.

He looked to Lithuania, and gave a look. Nervous, Lithuania gave a curt nod, and stared at the house. This was it.

* * *

China had been gleefully making a little pyramid out of the three plush dolls he had brought for Russia: A panda, dragon, and beanbag monkey. He knew Russia liked soft things, and hoped he would appreciate a get-well gift. America was in the kitchen trying to put the get-well fries for Russia into a baggie, to save for later. England, exhausted from caring for the ill nation, was taking a cat-nap on the couch. It was alright, he deserved a rest.

Russia stirred slightly, and looked up at the smiling Chinese man.

"How...how long have I been out?" he asked weakly.

"A while. You've been sleeping a long time. Are you feeling better?"

"I-I guess a little", lied Russia, faking a small smile. His head was pounding like a hammer to nails.

China smiled wider, "Oh that's good to hear, aru! I'll tell England later."

"Mmhm." nodded Russia, turning his head slightly towards his nightstand to gaze at the stuffed animals. He cracked a small smile, "Are those for me?"

"Mhm. I know you like soft stuff, so I got you a couple."

"Oh...spasibo." thanked Russia, whose voice suddenly got dry and quiet. He swallowed hard, trying to hold back a cough.

China tilted his head, golden eyes wide, "Can I get you anything while you're awake."

"D-da..." answered Russia, smiling a little, "Could I have some water please?"

China smiled and got up, "Certainly. I'll be right back, aru."

As soon as China left the room, Russia dropped the smile, and curled over from the excruciating pain in his head, and the burning sensation throughout his body. He could feel his lungs seize as he wheezed, and gave a violent cough. Grabbing a tissue from the box on his bed, he hacked harshly into it, feeling an unpleasant warmth exit his mouth. He could see a wad of black tar-like substance on the tissue, and he winced in pain and disgust. Crumpling up the tissue, and tossing it away, Russia shuddered as he lay agonized in pain. He managed to sit back up, and reach for a small mirror at his bedside. Tugging his scarf down, he gazed at the scars on his neck, noting they were the lightest shade of grey.

_"I hope France and Lithuania can return soon"_, he said to himself,_ "...I don't know how much longer I can hold on..."_

* * *

"Well, Francey-pants!", grinned Prussia, "Long time, no see! How are things going for you?"

"Fine.", answered the Frenchman calmly. Prussia stood in the doorway, as the other two nations stood outside.

"So, you guys here for West or somethin'? He's out of the house now but-"

"Actually, we need a favor from you...a big one.", murmured Lithuania, looking down.

"Eh? What for?"

"Well, you see, Russia is-"

"Woah, woah, woah, hold up a minute. If this has anything to do with that freaking snowman, I'm out."

Lithuania cursed himself for starting the conversation like that. He should have left France to speaking with the albino.

"But we need-"

"Nuh-uh." interrupted Prussia, shaking his head, his frown unchanging. He gave an annoyed look to France, who had a serious look on his face.

"Prussia, we really need to ask of your cooperation here." spoke France sternly, "It's a very serious matter."

"Exactly." grumbled Prussia, "Anything serious with the Russian is going to end up with me locked up in his crazy house!"

"No, it's not like that!" started Lithuania, eyes fearful, "You see, we-"

"No, no, no, a thousand frickin' times no!" grumbled Prussia, exasperated, "If the big bear has his problems, then he'll have to deal with them. I'm not going to help the jerk, he doesn't deserve it! If I ever have to see him again, I'll-"

He was cut off, as France slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. Uncharacteristically stern, France glared, "Just listen to us already! We really need your help. Russia has blanche fever."

Prussia shook France's hand off his face, and stared wide eyed for a moment, "...oh..._Blanche_...How bad is it?"

"...It's not looking good." stuttered Lithuania, "The only option to cure him is the antibiotic."

"-Which you happen to carry." continued France, frown unchanging.

"...Huh.", murmured Prussia, looking down, as he furrowed his brows in thought. He bit his lower lip, as he tried to make decisions in his head.

"We...we don't want Russia to die." admitted Lithuania to the Prussian, "You're the only one who can help us now...please?"

Prussia stared at the ground more, and without an answer, went back inside his house, shutting the door. He didn't even say anything else.

Lithuania stared in disbelief, and looked to France, who stared with an unchanged frown, but blue eyes projecting anger and shock.

"W-what will w-"

"That fink.", growled France murderously, "That rotten little fink. I knew he hated Russia, but to be so _heartless_ as to let him die like this, that's just a new level to sink to. That good-for-nothing creep!"

France punched the wall of the house, "That monster!", he roared, "I'll kill him for this!"

"France, calm down!" cried Lithuania, frightened.

"Russia's not the monster people thinks he is! He doesn't deserve this! Prussia's a bigger monster than him for this!"

Lithuania grabbed the Frenchman, as he breathed heavily, trying to calm down. France finally felt his anger leave him, and gazed around with mixed emotion. He came across a small bush of pink-white roses by the front door.

"France?" addressed Lithuania, unsure as to what the blonde haired nation was thinking. France walked slowly over to the roses, a small, broken smile on his face. Lithuania was disturbed by the look on his face, the smile fake and unstable, as if the Frenchman was going to break into tears.

France touched one of the roses gently, and murmured, "We trade flowers at world meetings sometimes. I give him roses, and he gives me sunflowers."

He picked the rose, "He grows beautiful sunflowers in his garden, Russia. Have you seen them Lithuania?"

"Y-yes...", stuttered the brown haired man nervously, feeling dread pool into his stomach.

"I...I look forward to seeing them a lot." sniffed France, rubbing his eyes slightly, trying not to cry. He crumpled the rose in his fist, "I-it'll be a shame that we can't see them anymore."

"France, what are you saying?" asked Lithuania, horrified.

"Prussia gave us his answer. And so it must stay..."

"We-well what are we going to do?" gasped Lithuania, shaking as he saw the broken expression on the French man's face.

France smiled bitterly, and brokenly. With a pained calmness, he sighed, "We should go back to Russia. As his friends, we should say goodbye."

"Fr-france, we-"

"It's too late for any other options Lithuania. We can't hope for a miracle now. W-we need to return to him...and make his last moments worth it. S-so he doesn't have to spend them alone."

Lithuania felt his heart seize in his chest, and his eyes burned. He couldn't believe what France was saying.

"I'm sorry." apologized France, face crumpling in despair, "It's too late to do anything else for him."

Lithuania could already feel tears in his eyes, struck silent as his French companion pulled him along gently, broken and weary.

But as they got closer to their car, they heard a voice cackle, "Hey where are you sadsacks going? Don't you wanna save the sick-dick?"

They turned around, and saw Prussia running from out the front door, with a gray canvas backpack in his hand. He was grinning wildly.

"Prussia?" asked Lithuania in disbelief.

"Sorry I took so long. The darn bottle was on the top shelf of my cabinets. And _man_ are those things tall."

France started, "B-but you-"

"What, you thought I was going to let someone_ die_ from this? What kind of_ jerk_ do you think I am?" he smirked wickedly.

France glanced away, slightly embarassed. He felt bad for judging his friend so quickly.

"So, um, is that the stuff in there?" pointed Lithuania to the backpack.

"Sure is! Now someone get in the driver's seat already. We've got an emergency, don't we?"

"Wait, you're coming _too_?", asked France in even more disbelief.

"Yeah, DUH." replied Prussia, rolling his ruby eyes, "I know how to use this stuff. We don't want to risk putting one of you idiots in charge of it, now do we?"

"Wait, why are you helping us for Russia? I thought you-"

"Less talk, more ignition, Froggy! Traffic sucks on these roads, and if we wanna treat the commie, we'd better get moving!"

Lithuania gave a smile of relief, and as France drove with the annoying Prussian in the back, he thought to himself that maybe there was such thing as last-minute miracles.

* * *

**So there's part two. Part three will be up in the next few days.**

**So I felt a huge urge to write a quick mini-shot between France and Russia. In my headcanon, they are both very good friends, and care for each other greatly. During the Cold War, their friendship kind of deteriorated, but after that, it got better. I think that they both have slight feelings for each other, and believe that they could have been more in the past, but they've both moved on. And so they just decide to stay friends. Russia values France's friendship greatly, since France helped him boost his self esteem, and France values Russia's honesty and kindness.**

**So let me just do a quick rant about my hatred for how the Hetalia fandom treats France and Russia. Both of them are either portrayed as evil, a rapist, or murderers. And here's the secret: THEY ARE NONE OF THOSE. ****France is not a rapist, pedophile, or bad guy. A pervert, and dirty minded, yes, but in my view, is capable of being a caring gentleman. And Russia: IS. NOT. EVIL. Capable of being violent, yes, but not an evil bad guy. In my views, he wasn't physically abusive towards people, more-so emotionally abusive to people and to himself, because let's face it, he wasn't well. If he was physically violent to people, he just probably lost control, and immediately regretted it. I think he could have been destructive though, throwing things, and breaking things, or causing damage in his anger. But if I see another story portraying him as a murderer or rapist, or a DEMON for that matter, I'm going to shoot a TV. Russia is both innocent and cruel like a child. Would a child honestly ever think of raping somebody? Especially since he was battered so much as a kid, I don't think he'd want to put other people through that. So, Russia is creepy and a little obliviously cruel, but he's not evil or a rapist/murderer/spawn of Satan. And neither is France. The end.**

**Read and Review, or the Allies take Russia from his bed to see Oprah live, as his dying wish, and as a giftie from the queen of daytime TV, EVERYONE gets a case of blanche fever (which I made up for this story), and Oprah smiles with delight as her ratings grow by millions. ("And if you look under your seats, you'll see I've just given you all blanche fever!")**


	3. Chapter 3

**Final chapter! Thanks for reading!**

**Read and Review or I'm writing three to five death!fics a day.**

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"So just how effective is the antibiotic?" asked France, raising an eyebrow as he flicked his turn signal on again.

"Pretty effective. As long as Russia isn't dead already, he should be okay."

Lithuania tried to mask his worry, praying and hoping that they weren't too late. He then asked, curiously,

"Why are you doing this Prussia?"

"Hm?"

"Why? Why are you agreeing to help Russia now?"

"Well,_ jeez_ Lithuania, what kind of sick monster would I be if I just let him die? I mean, I'm the only one who has the stuff to help him. Anyway, just because I hate his guts, I don't want him dead. Especially from this dang fever. I mean, you guys care about him, for some freaky reason, and I wouldn't want you to feel bad if he died. And his sisters are freaking emotional time bombs. If they blow, we're screwed."

The other two both nodded, and France gave a smirk, "And just out of pure curiosity, how is it that _you_ of all nations, or ex-nations, are the only one who carries the blanche fever treatment...and the only one who actually knows how to use it?"

Prussia gave a half smile, "...West had blanche fever when he was little. He had a bit of a rough spell, so I stuck around to take care of him a while. It got pretty bad...I was scared for a moment that I was gonna lose him. Thanks to my awesomeness, he was ok."

He glanced back to Lithuania, "So I guess I know how you guys feel. If you guys care for Russia as much as I do about my snotty baby brother, then I guess it would be a dick move of me to not help him when it would hurt you guys."

As the car slowed to a stop in front of the ill Russian's home, Prussia sifted through his bags to make sure the vial of antibiotic was still okay. As he searched through, getting out of the car, he failed to notice a crumpled piece of paper fall out, and land on the ground, by France's feet. The Frenchman curiously picked it up, and unfolded it. He read it quietly.

_Bruder,_

_It's been centuries, and I still haven't had the courage to thank you for curing me when I caught blanche fever. I'm eternally grateful for it. You saved my life, which is something people might not have ever expected from you. You may be a slimeball sometimes, but you're still a savior for me, even if I never say it._

_And please stop blaming yourself for grandfather. It wasn't your fault he had blanche fever, and it certainly isn't your fault that he couldn't be saved. You tried the best you could, but I don't think Germania could have been saved in any case. He knew you did your best, and he wouldn't blame you either._

_Thank you for everything,_

_Germany_

France raised his eyesbrows in surprise. Prussia never told him about Germania having blanche fever. And he certainly didn't say anything about him dying from it. He gave a sad look to the Prussian who strutted up the front of the house to the door. He knew that there had been another reason Prussia was doing this. Prussia was probably just as worried as them. He was worried that this would be another person he couldn't save, another regret.

* * *

As they walked to the front door, France unlocked and opened it, only to be face to face with large, anxious green eyes.

"Thank God you're here! Prussia!" screamed England, even though the albino was three feet in front of him.

"What?" asked Prussia, not appreciating being yelled at.

"G-get upstairs quickly! It's bad. Very, very bad!" stuttered England as he rushed in front of the Prussian, to lead him upstairs.

"What's happened?"

"I-I don't know!" admitted England, "His scars turned white a short while ago, and I was up there just a few minutes ago, and he was burning up even worse! He..he was awake, and he muttered that he was sorry or something, and he passed out! We're trying to wake him up, but nothing's happening!"

Prussia cursed under his breath, and charged up the stairs, down the hall, into the room. Russia was passed out on the bed, sweat drenching his hair and leaving it unkempt. His face was unresponsive, and paler than normal. China was sitting in the corner, golden eyes wide with fear, while America hysterically shook at Russia's shoulder, begging him to wake up.

"Outta the way burger boy!" shouted Prussia as he rushed over to the bed. He yanked off Russia's sweat stained scarf, revealing scars that were horrifically white. Prussia could feel his heart skip a beat, as he felt the Russian's forehead. He winced as he felt a slight sting.

"Gott, he's still burning hot. America, get my bag on the floor open and get out the vial with the orange label, and a fresh hypodermic needle, now!"

America, nodded shakily, and rummaged in the bag. Prussia leaned over, close to Russia's face, to check his breathing. He waited for several seconds, and when he heard none, he grimaced.

He leaned the Russian's head back, and begged to God that this torture would be over.

_You freaking owe me for this, jerk._

Doing his best to prevent himself from gagging, Prussia put his mouth over the other's, and breathed twice, making Russia's chest rise and fall manually. No response yet, so Prussia began to press on the other's chest, to try and bring him back.

"C'mon you dumb Russian!" he cursed loudly, startling the other nations in the room. After thirty compressions, Prussia gave another two breaths, feeling absolutely sick to his stomach. He pressed onto the Russian's chest once again, counting in his head the number of seconds that ran by. He shouted, "BREEEEEATHE!"

_I'm not going to let it happen again. I'm not going to fail like I did with Germania_, he prayed silently, _So c'mon, stay with me Russia. Your friends need you here. Don't you dare die on me._

He was shaking slightly as he leaned back down to give another two breaths. But he jumped back immediately as Russia slightly jolted forward with a gasp, breathing heavily. The ill nation winced in pain and agony, eyes wide as he curled over, shaking slightly. The other nations gave a small look of relief. He was still alive.

Russia cringed in agony and perhaps fear, as he murmured, "I-I was burning...I was burning alive, and it was dark...b-but it's not dark anymore...but it burns still..."

"America, hand me that needle and vial, 'kay?" demanded Prussia quickly, both relieved and panicked. The American handed him the items quickly. Unscrewing the cap on the vial, and taking the seal off the hypodermic needle, he filled the syringe with the proper dose of the clear liquid, as Russia writhed in agony on the bed. Grabbing a swab from England's supply on the desk, he cleaned some of the skin on Russia's arm, and carefully, but quickly stuck the needle in, injecting the treatment. Russia barely seemed to notice the needle stuck into his arm, already in enough pain. But as the seconds went by, he stopped squirming, and seemed to be more relaxed, falling asleep rather quickly.

Prussia backed away from the bed, and sank down against the wall. He wiped off his mouth, and rested his head against his knees, giving a sigh.

"W-wait for about ten minutes or so, and see if there's any drop in temperature." he directed shakily, "I-if you put some ice on his scars, he'll be okay by tomorrow..."

He weakly got up, and headed for the hall. Lithuania asked, "Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna go puke my guts out. That jerk's mouth is disgusting." spat Prussia with a small smirk. He took one last glance at Russia, who was now sleeping deeply on the bed, circles of exhaustion under his eyes, but slightly relaxed. Prussia gave a small sigh of relief, and promptly ran to the bathroom.

England went over to Russia, and cautiously felt his forehead. He gave a thoughtful nod, and observed, "His fever's breaking, it seems."

The other nations gave a sigh of relief, and smiled. America then burst into tears. England gave an exasperated look, "What's the matter now?"

"St-stupid Russia!", he blubbered, "You almost up and went on us, you big jerk!"

He wiped his eyes, with a happy smile, and pet the sleeping nation's matted hair, "D-don't you ever scare us like that again!"

Russia went on sleeping, snuggling further into the pillow. France smiled, and commented, "Well, we'd better thank Prussia for this."

And as if Prussia had heard him from the bathroom, he groggily said, "NO PROBLEM!"

After a few retching sounds, they heard him shout, "The commie owes me one!"

They all gave each other a look. Russia was doomed.

* * *

"Man, I think these things are even better when they're reheated." commented America, as he nibbled on the 'get-well' fries he had saved for Russia, "Whaddya think?"

"I wouldn't know. You've been eating them all." chuckled Russia, as he sketched another sunflower in his watercolor book. He had enjoyed drawing long before he could remember.

"Well c'mon, you like these things don't you?"

"I do, I'm just not hungry now." explained the other, not too keen on eating greasy fries while he was still groggy.

"How are you feeling now?" asked England, as he walked by carrying his medicine case out.

"Much better." smiled Russia, violet eyes bright. After a full night of undisturbed sleep, he was almost back to his normal self. His fever was gone, and his scars were only the slightest tinge of pinkish-red. He had covered them up with his scarf, but there wasn't much to hide.

France had gone to a florist that morning, and returned with a bouquet of sunflowers for his friend. Russia grinned like a child on Christmas, and put the sunflowers in a vase on his nightstand. France winked, "Now I'll be expecting some roses in return next time we meet!"

Lithuania was just relieved, to see Russia well again, and ended up getting a ride home from France, while he slept in the car.

America and England left the room for some time, and during that time, Prussia rushed in to grab his bag. He had spent the night at the Russian's home, England requesting it. His reasoning was just in case there was a setback or Russia didn't get better. Prussia was certain that one of the Russian's house demons would eat him, but thankfully the gods were kindly that night.

Prussia quietly walked in, and grabbed the bag which was at the edge of the bed. He picked it up, and turned to leave when he heard Russia softly call out, "Just a moment, da?"

He turned his head with a firm, annoyed look, but it went blank when he saw the shy, nervous expression on Russia's face. The Russian fiddled with an end of his scarf, his mouth slightly covered by it. He looked up shyly, and murmured,

"I want to thank you..."

"Hm?"

"...you saved my life Prussia. I don't know how I can make it up to you."

Prussia frowned a little, "Well I don't know either."

Russia then looked down, with a regretful look on his face, "I've...I've also never been able to apologize for everything bad I have done to you."

The albino gazed at the violet eyed man blankly and said with brutal honesty, "I know how sorry you are, and it's not like I have a choice to forgive you or not. I just can't."

Ashamed, Russia looked down, eyes sad.

"But don't worry 'bout it, 'kay? You've been through enough."

Prussia turned around once again, but was stopped when he heard Russia softly say, "Then can I at least give you something?"

Prussia raised an eyebrow, "Like what?"

Russia looked around, trying to find something to give. He looked at the sunflowers on the nightstand, and he picked them up, offering them.

"Here...I don't deserve them..."

Prussia looked at the sunflowers, then at Russia. And once again, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the Russian, who looked like a kid who was reluctantly giving away halloween candy to a sibling. He sighed and took the sunflowers, leaving Russia with a smile.

Another act of mercy from one who gives it unoften.

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**The end**


End file.
